Like Porcelain
by InjaMorgan
Summary: Just a short glimpse into the Parallel World of Rose and 10.2 A bit sad.


**A/N:** Here I am again :-D Second try in English, again a sad story, and this time … well … not a really happy ending …

However, I hope you enjoy reading it :-)

Betaed by the marvellous **oddood.**

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Doctor Who, I would force David Tenant to stay. But sadly, I'm not the BBC, I just play with their ideas and David Tennant is not anymore the Doctor. :-(

Dedicated to my mother

Hab Dich lieb.

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**Like Porcelain**

His hand ran gently over the iron gate in front of him. Behind it was a small gravel walk, which turned after a few meters off and vanished between bushes and rhododendron. A cold wind drove through the foliage of the trees and he shivered. Some leaves were blown across the walk; last regards from the almost past autumn.

He could not decide what to do.

This had been a really rare thing to happen in his previous life. Even if he had landed in a completely unfamiliar place, without the slightest guess what was waiting for him, there had been always this curiosity, the thirst for knowledge which lured him to go out.

But this door; this tiny little door in front of him which did not even reach up to his hip was, in his mind, higher then any mountain he had ever climbed.

There was something hiding behind it, which had taught him to fear.

Each of the steps in his previous life was accompanied with very different emotions – happiness, rage, hate, excitement – but rarely, very rarely, with truly, pervasive fear. And this feeling had always been connected to a person, a very special person.

He worked up all the courage left in his body and pushed the iron gate open. It made a creaky, rusty noise which sounded a bit like a sigh to him. Maybe it empathized with him.

His shoes crunched on the gravel as he walked through the park-like area. He did not need to think about his way, his feet just found their path like in a dream.

These past weeks had been like an endless, unimaginable dream; in the night he slept fitfully, fantasized about the past and what he wished for so desperately. But when he woke up, he lay alone in his bed and soon tears covered his vision.

Every once in a while the wind raised some leaves, which rustled when he walked over them. His senses were strangely sharpened, and yet he felt like he was under a colossal glass cover, which sealed him off from other people and enclosed only him alone.

Everyone handled him with kid gloves, but he knew that this sympathy was just feigned; no one knew how he really felt.

Hypocrites, hypocrites, hypocrites.

He had stopped. Although he would've liked to go on, he needed to run away, like in the past.

Sometimes it was healthier to be a coward.

But this time this would not work; he had promised it.

In front of him was freshly dug soil, decorated with some plantlets of heather, a small arborvitae and a simple granite block in the middle. In his pockets he searched for the reason he came to this place: A small angel. Her Angel.

They had discovered it last Christmas in a small junk-shop. She had said that the angel looked a bit like him when he gazed at her. And he had smiled like the angel, and she had kissed him deeply.

His fingers softly touched the small wings of the figurine. So tender; so fragile.

Carefully, he put the angel in front of the stone and let it look up to the engraved writing; not to the observer. With his fingers, he traced the black letters, although he saw them in every dream, a nightmare that would always follow him.

**Rose Marion Tyler**

**27. 04. 1978 –**

**14. 08. 2010**

*****

**Behind**** the stars, we'll meet again.**

And he cried.

He had not been able to cry when the diagnosis was made. He had always been the strength for the two of them, had given her strength.

When every therapy failed, when he saw how she became weaker day by day, he had sat at her bed and had held her hand. And her hand had wiped the first tears out of his face; she did not want to see him crying. She asked for the smile, the smile of the angel. And he smiled, even though the tears did not dry up.

Then she died, and this time the tears did not want to come anymore.

He had supported Jackie, albeit he would have preferred to vanish in some corner and just be alone. He endured the expressions of condolence, the obsequies. And yet he strayed in the most horrible nightmare.

After seven weeks, based on the old traditions of his long gone planet, he had returned to her to say a final goodbye. She had been his beloved; had meant the world to him.

He felt so empty, like a shell without any contents.

A last time he caressed the stone, silently bid farewell and sighed like the whole weight of the world lay on his shoulder.

Slowly, he went back to the gravel walk and the iron gate. The wind played with his coat, which seemed far too big for him. He had become thinner, even thinner than before, which was nearly impossible for him. But, regarding the fact that he had not eaten for days, it was not that impossible anymore.

The door creaked again as he left, never to return to this place.

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It's sad, I know xD Anyway, be kind and leave a review :-)


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